


Pretty Boy

by loseph_lostar



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Enemies With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loseph_lostar/pseuds/loseph_lostar
Summary: The thought strikes Yagami odd, but he can’t help but think of how attractive Hamura looks with a cigarette between his lips, nicotine stained fingers holding onto it tightly as if someone might snatch it from him.  It’s probably the scotch hitting Yagami hard, he’s not used to that top-shelf shit, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought in the past Hamura was hot.  Not in the traditional way, like how Yagami is with his pretty-boy looks, but in that grizzled yakuza way that’s weathered from the years of nicotine and booze and taking punches to the face.  Like a hostess’s shady ass dad.“Give me a drag,” Yagami asks.  He’s taller than Hamura, otherwise he’d look up and give him that simpering, shiny-eyed look the dealer had given him before.  The kind that would get some pathetic salaryman to beg for a date with Yagami.“You have your own,” Hamura replies.  “I just got you Kanrai.  Stop acting like such a hooker.”
Relationships: Hamura Kyohei/Yagami Takayuki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Pretty Boy

“What the fuck is this?” Yagami asks the question as he attempts to take in the glitz and glamour around him. He had heard there was an underground red light district, but thought it was fake. The kind of urban legend shit you’d hear as a kid, but this was more oriented to the tastes of the horny and those who had way too much fucking money to blow, but didn’t want to take that next step of spending it on some deep web shit. 

“Keep up, Ta-bo. It’s Purgatory. I told you before we got here where we were going.” Hamura is wearing that self-assured smirk of his, the kind that revealed a slant of nicotine-stained teeth. It had all the invitation of a shark that smelled blood in the water. 

“No, you told me you were going to take me out. I assumed that’d be food.”

Purgatory was a stark difference from Kamurocho, oddly enough. Kamurocho was neon lights oozing sex from every orifice with a slap of good food somewhere in the middle. This place permeated sex too, but it was softened by the overwhelming smell of lotus flowers, gentle lighting filling the area, and the running of a stream. It would’ve been classy if it wasn’t for the smattering of drunken businessmen being seduced by soft-spoken women in tiny dresses. 

“Then don’t assume shit,” comes Hamura’s reply, that slanting smirk disappearing. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll buy you dinner.”

For a brief moment, Yagami considers leaving. Hamura wouldn’t stop him, probably. After all, Yagami was the one who called him up, putting on that subservient, simpering voice that he knew always went straight to Hamura’s dick, asking if he wanted to treat him tonight. Yagami wasn’t so hard up for money that he couldn’t buy himself some cheap bento box from the Poppo around the corner from his shitty office he just put a lease on, but he could also save that money for another day.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Better not be Smile Burger though. I’m tired of that greasy shit. I’m not 20 anymore.”

“You’d be cuter if you still were.”

Yagami smirks at that. “No, you just liked when I didn’t talk back as much.”

Hamura’s upper lip curls at that, like he wants to say something back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he clicks his tongue and turns his back on Yagami and heads towards one of the few buildings that wasn’t housing a bunch of cooing women. Yagami is on his heels like a puppy, feeling like one of those dewy-eyed teenagers that join up with the Matsugane family that excitedly shout _Aniki!_ each time Hamura gives them the time of day. The sort of guys that Yagami liked to poke fun at until Kaito smacked him in the back of the head. 

The bouncers at the entryway of the building give Hamura a sliding look, their eyes obscured by tinted shades (what _assholes_ ) and they give him a nod of recognition. They look like they want to stop Yagami from following Hamura in, but they only watch in silence and he can’t help but give them the kind of shit-eating grin that would get his teeth kicked in under any other circumstance.

“You come here often?” Yagami asks as they pass through the door. He’s immediately greeted by the sight of a casino setup -- poker, roulette, blackjack, and craps. It’s only a faint surprise that this place has a casino, but the bigger surprise was Hamura frequenting it. He always struck Yagami as the kind of guy who went big on Cho-Han or Koi-Koi. 

He doesn’t get an answer and Hamura appears to be surveying the tables, maybe trying to pick his lucky one. Yagami still doesn’t get why he’s here. If Hamura wanted company while he bled yen, he should’ve called somebody from the family. 

“Hey Ta-bo, how confident are you in your poker skills?” Hamura is back to giving him that shark-grin that showed all of his teeth. He’s indicating to the poker table directly in front of them. Hamura is wearing the kind of expression that told Yagami there _was_ a chance he’d get his teeth kicked.

“It depends,” Yagami returns the grin and digs his hands into his leather jacket. “How confident are you I’m going to get Kanrai tonight?”

He would’ve settled for ramen, but it was becoming increasingly obvious why Hamura had dragged Yagami here. Higher stakes called for better payout. 

“You get me half a million, you can have whatever your little heart desires. Steak, booze, drugs, tits, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Ooh Hamura-san, you’re so convincing,” Yagami coos. “Your fan club at the office too stupid to pull this off?”

Yagami doesn’t need his answer to know he’s right. The Matsugane boys were loyal, but most of them were dumb as all fuck. They’d never be able to pull off cheating, especially in a place like this. 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Yagami gives a jut of his chin to the security cameras that encircled the entire room. He had no doubt in his mind that whoever ran this place would have no problem gutting somebody if they were caught cheating. Yagami was a fan of his guts remaining in place, an even bigger fan of staying alive. He wasn’t about to get his kidney carved out for some Kanrai unless it was a sure thing they wouldn’t be caught. 

A heavy arm goes around Yagami’s slender shoulders, pulling him tight into the thicker body. Hamura leans down and whispers in Yagami’s ear, his breath warm against the shell of it. “You just get to act like your pretty little self, Ta-bo.”

\---

“Raise.” Yagami throws five chips into the pot in the middle of the table, then gives the dealer a sweet smile. The dealer was a younger woman, her hands shaky each time she dealt out cards, and looked like she was working her first job. She was probably pulled into Purgatory for her looks, an innocent girl-next-door type, but her demeanor was so painfully shy that they had no choice to stick her here. It was easy for Yagami to flirt with her enough to fluster her.

The guy to Yagami’s left let out a low swear and mumbled out he was folding. He’s been getting his ass kicked all night since Yagami and Hamura joined the table, his face growing increasingly more red as his losses piled up. Yagami wasn’t a poker guy, but he was _thriving_ on how badly this guy was losing. The woman beside him also folds, shooting the dealer a nasty look as if it was her fault.

“Raise--” Hamura was on Yagami’s right. He adds another 8 chips, his fingers twitching in Yagami’s hand.

The plan was so stupidly simple -- a circle for Yagami to raise, a X-shape for call, and a tap to fold. Yagami was to flirt with the poor girl, giving her crooked smiles and leaning towards her, as a distraction. It was working almost _too_ well.

“L-last round,” the girl stammers out. She flips the last community card -- a five of hearts joining the other four. 

Yagami glances at his cards. He has a three of a kind, not the _worst_ hand, but the needling tap in his palm tells him that Hamura has a better hand. Not that it matters. Between the two of them they had already easily racked up the 500,000 yen that Hamura wanted. 

“Fold,” Yagami says easily. He throws the cards on the table, his three pair of 7s standing out. He thinks he should probably play the part of someone who is devastated they just lost, but he’s already thinking about how he’s going to order top shelf scotch and the most expensive slab of meat he can at Kanrai. 

Hamura slams his own cards on the table, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Straight flush.”

_Holy fuck_. They may have been colluding, but no amount of colluding could get Hamura those cards. 

“Hamura-san is the winner of the 50,000 yen pot,” the dealer announces. She indicates the chips. “Congratulations--”

“That’s fucking _bullshit,_ ” interrupts the guy on Yagami’s left. “I know this asshole is cheating somehow.”

“Sir, please,” the dealer timidly pleads. “If there was cheating, the cameras would have--”

“Then check the fucking cameras or I’ll force you to!”

Yagami lets out a sigh, his eyes sliding from the cute dealer to the asshole that had jumped to his feet. He was a hulking guy, the sort that wasn’t yakuza, but would pick fights with them to prove some point. The kind of guy that Yagami had to throw to the ground more than once because they thought he was an easy shakedown. 

Before Yagami can rise to his feet though, there’s a flash of white, then a howl of pain. The howl is joined by a high-pitched squeal as the dealer jumps away from the table, both of her hands frantically clutching at her chest. 

“Don’t be such a fuckin’ coward,” Hamura’s voice is thin as he speaks, his pristine white suit splattered ever so slightly with blood. “Take your loss like a man instead of some whining bitch.”

Yagami’s eyes go wide as he realizes what just happened. “Holy fuck, Hamura.”

The guy is laid out on the ground, his chair knocked to the side, his nose gushing blood. Hamura’s knuckles were stained crimson from it. The woman who had been next to him, too used to Purgatory, hasn’t moved an inch, instead she let out a small scoff and got up from her seat.

“You’re lucky I don’t make you pay for these shoes. There’s a splotch of blood on them,” she says to Hamura before gathering her remaining chips and walking away. 

It wasn’t long until security descended on them and cleared the the poker area out -- patrons only barely acknowledging what just happened as they continued their own games. Yagami thought he was developing whiplash from how quickly everything happened, but Hamura seemed just as nonplussed as the patrons. Instead of explaining the situation to security, he gathers up his chips and heads to the exchange desk. 

“Uh, sorry for all of this,” Yagami says with a ghost of a smile as he walks up to the dealer. She still looks scared shitless, but she was no longer shaking like a rich woman's chihuahua. 

“It-it’s fine,” she murmurs. She gives Yagami a shiny-eyed stare, reverence in them as she takes him in now that he’s so much closer to her. “Thanks for checking up on me. Maybe you’ll play at my table again.”

She sounds hopeful as she says that, her eyes drilling holes into Yagami. He gives her another smile and shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”

God, just hopefully not with Hamura’s ass again. If the guy wasn’t feeding him, he was dragging him into overly violent situations. He had the stomach for violence, the guys he laid out on a weekly basis were indication of that, but he wasn’t trying to get a switchblade in his kidney because he cheated the wrong bastard.

“You want your steak and tits or not?” Hamura calls to him from the desk. He’s holding a fat stack of yen, giving a toothy smile. 

Yagami would take the violence if it meant free Kanrai though.

\---

The thought strikes Yagami odd, but he can’t help but think of how attractive Hamura looks with a cigarette between his lips, nicotine stained fingers holding onto it tightly as if someone might snatch it from him. It’s probably the scotch hitting Yagami hard, he’s not used to that top-shelf shit, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought in the past Hamura was hot. Not in the traditional way, like how Yagami is with his pretty-boy looks, but in that grizzled yakuza way that’s weathered from the years of nicotine and booze and taking punches to the face. Like a hostess’s shady ass dad.

“Give me a drag,” Yagami asks. He’s taller than Hamura, otherwise he’d look up and give him that simpering, shiny-eyed look the dealer had given him before. The kind that would get some pathetic salaryman to beg for a date with Yagami. 

“You have your own,” Hamura replies. “I just got you Kanrai. Stop acting like such a hooker.”

They’re standing in some nondescript alleyway close to Kamurocho Hills, a stark reminder that even if Kamurocho got prettied up with modern buildings, it still stayed very much the same. The grime of it never really goes away no matter how much the government tried to scrub it.

“Treat me like one and I’ll act like it,” he grins at him. “I just helped you win a shit ton of money, a drag is the least of it.”

Hamura smirks. “I never know if I wanna kick your teeth in or fuck you into a mattress.”

“Not exclusively mutual.” Yagami plucks the cigarette from between Hamura’s lips and brings it to his own. He takes a strong drag, the tip of the cigarette turning cherry red from it. He knows he’s always trying his luck with Hamura. Hell, he knows that he has pushed it too far too many times, his twice-over broken nose indication of that. 

Yagami is a masochist, he’s known that for a long time. Maybe since he was some scrawny shithead teenager who kept going after Kaito over and over again despite how many times he got his face beaten in. He likes it sweet too, relishing in those feathering, fond kisses he got from Kaito whenever they fucked on Kaito’s too small futon. There’s something to be said about the roughness that Hamura gives him though. 

Hamura grips Yagami by the cheeks and sneers at him. “You really don’t know your limits, huh, Ta-bo?”

“You’re so romantic, Hamura-san,” Yagami smirks around the cigarette. “Taking me out on a poker date and then wining and dining me.” 

The older man gives him a little shove and rips the cigarette back from Yagami, but doesn’t put it back in his mouth. “You want to fuck, then just say so. You’re not some teenage girl that can’t say what she wants.”

Yagami can’t help but snort at that. Well, he supposes Hamura isn’t wrong. There was a 50/50 shot of Hamura saying yes, the yakuza not always in the mood for Yagami’s snark and attitude. Still, Yagami is feeling full and sated from dinner and a little bit turned on staring at Hamura smoking in the flickering neon lighting. 

“Fiiine,” Yagami draws out the word, childishly, like he wants to throw a tantrum. “Let’s get a room. I’ll even pay.” He snickers, the idea of him paying for a love hotel a bit funny to him. He doesn’t _mind_ , the places around here were cheap, but it was always the other person paying. 

“You don’t have the money for it,” Hamura snaps at him, a little petty. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to any of this.”

“Then you pay.”

“What makes you think--”

Yagami covers Hamura’s mouth with his own, immediately going for an open mouthed kiss. There’s next to no resistance from the older man and he allows Yagami to push the kiss deep, dirty, and a little sloppy. The click of teeth as Hamura mirrors each of Yagami’s movements are indicative of how Hamura was only refusing Yagami as a form of foreplay.

When the kiss breaks, Yagami gives him a cheeky grin. “So, you paying?”

\---

Whenever they get the room, they get right to it. Sloppy, wet kisses exchanged before Yagami is on his hands and knees on the hotel bed, blanket scratchy under him. He doesn’t mind, especially not with Hamura behind him, tongue wet and soft against his hole and his cheeks being squeezed by rough hands. There was something to be said about the feeling of calloused hands, Yagami always preferring the feeling of it over soft hands. Maybe it was something primal in him.

This is the only time that Hamura is gentle with him, when he’s softly licking and kissing at Yagami’s hole. The guy was a sadist and liked to be rough, but he wasn’t in the business of totally breaking his partner. Part of that had to do with Matsugane, but another part was that Yagami liked to think somewhere deep down, Hamura was a little nostalgic from all the years they’ve spent hating each other. 

Yagami’s hole is soft now, he can feel it from how easily he’s opening with each swipe and intrusion of Hamura’s tongue. He wants to tell Hamura to speed it up, but knows that he’ll regret it if he does. Instead he lets out a little moan, hands tangling themselves into that scratchy blanket. 

“So impatient,” murmurs Hamura against his skin. He pulls away from Yagami and gives his ass a hard smack. Another shuddering moan escapes Yagami. “And slutty. Your hole is already ready for me and I haven’t even put anything in you yet.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” the remark comes out as an indignant huff and Yagami shakes his ass as if to punctuate it. That earns him another hard slap against his ass, the skin where Hamura makes contact immediately burning. 

“You’re a fucking petulant child, you know that?” Hamura presses his thumb against Yagam’s hole, the digit immediately going past the ring of muscle. The intrusion is a small relief, but not nearly enough. 

“Hamura,” the whine is needy as it escapes Yagami’s lips. He knows he’s only demonstrating Hamura’s point, but he really doesn’t care. He doesn’t have a ton of self-respect when it comes to sex. 

Another digit enters him, but it’s evident that Hamura has no interest in making Yagami feel good from it, at least not yet. He’s doing it to stretch him out, which is better than him just jamming his cock in, but it’s too slow. Luckily, Hamura doesn’t wait long to push a third finger inside, but there’s no big movements, just slight ones. It still makes Yagami’s hard cock twitch with anticipation now. 

“Look at you, you’re wet as a fuckin’ girl,” Hamura murmurs out. Yagami glances down and finds his cock is leaking, the head lewd as it drips pre onto the bed. 

“Fuck,” he swears out softly. “C’mon, Hamura.”

The fingers are ripped from Yagami’s hole and the sudden emptiness makes Yagami let out a low moan. He can feel his spit-slicked hole winking, desperate to be filled again. 

His gut twists in anticipation, especially as he hears the click of a belt being undone and the tell-tale sign of ripping foil. It takes everything in him to not grab his own dick and start jerking himself off. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” Hamura warns as if he could read Yagami’s mind. He can hear the smirk in his voice, taunting him. Yagami is about to give a snarky reply when he feels a sudden cold glob of _something_ on his hole. He lets out a little squeak and it’s only when Hamura pushes two fingers back inside of him does he realize it’s lube.

“A little warning would be nice next time,” mumbles out Yagami, though he’s not _really_ mad. Once the initial coldness of the lube wears off, he leans into the fingers, enjoying the way they’re lazily going in and out of him. They’re not quite reaching his prostate, but it’s enough that it increases Yagami’s anticipation.

Hamura finally removes his fingers and they’re immediately replaced by the pressure of the head of Hamura’s cock. He doesn’t push in, instead he teases him, rubbing the head around Yagami’s slicked hole with one hand and the other holding Yagami’s hip in a vice grip. 

“Please--”

“Ask nicely,” Hamura interrupts, then lets out a barking laugh. “C’mon, Ta-bo. Ask for me to fuck you.”

A shuddering breath escapes from Yagami and he turns his head so that he’s peaking backward at Hamura. He’s completely put together, not even an ounce of desire on that weathered face, just that broad, toothy grin of his. Hell, he was still fully dressed as if to make a point of who was in charge here. 

“Please fuck me,” the words come out thin, desperate. 

“Needy bitch,” Hamura replies, but carefully pushes himself inside Yagami. It’s all Yagami can do to not let out some pathetic cry. The cock pushes past his rim slowly, slowly, _slowly_ and it’s not enough for him, he wants to _beg_ Hamura to go faster, harder, _something_.

Hamura finally bottoms out and he stays still for a long moment as if to test Yagami. To see how long Yagami can stay still or maybe it was a test of self-endurance. But a long fifteen seconds pass before Hamura begins to move, slow, long ones that were similar to how he entered Yagami.

Yagami feels himself clench up around Hamura’s cock, a tight grip that was desperate to keep Hamura inside of him. It makes Hamura let out a loud hiss and mumble out something that he can’t quite make out. 

It’s a godsend when Hamura finally sets a more steady pace, slightly quicker than that slow slide from before. Yagami unintentionally spreads his legs wider as if that might give him some relief. It _does_ , it ruts his cock against the bed with each piston from Hamura, but it’s still not enough. Yagami reaches down to grab his cock, but before he can, he feels the yank of his hair.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself, Ta-bo,” Hamura’s voice is sickly sweet as if his fingers twist into Yagami’s hair. “You can only come from my dick.”

Yagami grins. “You really are such a romantic, Hamura-san.”

Hamura lets Yagami go with a scoff, but says nothing else. Instead, he picks up the pace and begins to jackrabbit into Yagami, his movements becoming unsteady and filling the room with the _slap-slap-slap_ of sex. Yagami doesn’t even realize the shrill moans that are spilling from his mouth, the feeling of Hamura filling him and slamming into his prostate too much for him. 

“You may have been a shitty lawyer, but you’re great at fucking--”

The words slightly sting and if it were any other situation, Yagami would’ve decked Hamura. Instead, a broken sound that’s a cross between a cry and a moan slips from Yagami’s mouth. He’s desperately clutching onto the blanket, back impossibly arched, and legs too wide. He feels porn star slutty, especially with the drool leaking from his open mouth and spilling onto the bed, mixing with his pre. It’s filthy, especially as Yagami’s cock rubs against it, but it’s _enough_.

All it takes is one more kiss of Hamura’s cock against his prostate and Yagami spills completely onto the bed. The cum splatters onto the bed and for a brief, bizarre moment, Yagami wonders how many other people have cum on this bed. The thought is fleeting though as Hamura continues to roughly pound into Yagami, tearing a half-sob from him as he grows overly sensitive. 

“Too much,” the words babble out, sounding almost like gibberish. “It’s too much, Hamura--”

There’s three short stutters of Hamura’s hips before Yagami feels Hamura’s fingers clench onto his hips tightly, tan skinned going white beneath the grip, surely leaving bruises in their wake. It’s a shame that Hamura used a condom, he wouldn’t have minded being filled up with his cum. 

The two of them stayed impossibly still, Hamura still gripping Yagami’s hips too tightly and Yagami letting out little hiccups, as they came down from their orgasms. It’s after a full minute before either of them move, slowly finally beginning to clean themselves up.

“Maybe you should invest into being an AV star,” Yagami’s voice still sounds broken, but he grins as he speaks. “That dick of yours is magic.”

“Funny coming from the guy who just fucked another man for dinner.” 

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I cheated at poker for dinner. The sex was just a bonus.” Yagami pulls his shirt back on and gives Hamura a little smirk. “Speaking of, you hungry again?”

**Author's Note:**

> I just think Hamura is neat.
> 
> Twitter: @sheriffofgay


End file.
